...
..
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Katsuki sits on top of the roof.
It's a peaceful day, really; the breeze is fresh with the crisp fragrance of pines and warmed by the early April sun.
It's only the malfunctioned gears in his heart that bother him.
'I refuse,' he protests futilely. 'I won't bow. I will become the number one Hero.'
Yet his heart isn't in it as it once had been. The days Bakugou Katsuki strived for the glory of heroism are over.
Bakugou Katsuki is dead.
Katsuki slips his legs through the bars the next day.
It's not a big deal, to be frank. He knows it's not. He can still feel the strong metal firmly embedded in the concrete roof beneath his bum as he sits idly. He's holding the bars with a deathly tight grip.
Against his wishes, he thinks he could jump.
In a purely theoretical sense, of course. Katsuki knows something like that is pointless; it serves no purpose but escape, it's too permanent of a solution and he still wants things from life. No, Bakugou Katsuki wouldn't stoop to that level of cowardice.
He imagines his skull cracking open on the koi fish pond, painting the water crimson. Like his eyes.
Again, against his wishes, he decides it'd be a pretty sight.
Bakugou Katsuki longs for the day he will feel ready to hop off the edge.
It's agonizing. He can't sit through classes, he can't eat in the cafeteria, he can't walk home without fearing he's going to throw himself into the traffic.
It feels as if the total control he's had over his good fortune was turned to dust.
Karma is collecting.
Bakugou Katsuki is a big fat coward and he hates it.
"I ain't gonna do that shit," he whispers hoarsely as he grasps the horizontal bar separating him from the blank space.
"No way. That's no cool. Come on, Katsuki; you know you are stronger than that. Don't succumb."
He doesn't. But he doesn't stay away either.
He raises his legs and hops onto the thin ledge on the other side.
"The fuck," Katsuki curses, completely dumbstruck at the feeling of reclaimed control he has. He can decide if he wants to fling himself over there or not. It feels familiar, it feels powerful and most importantly...
... he feels euphoric.
"The fuck is this shit," he asks into thin air. It scares him, what this does to him; he can't do this. Not yet. Not when his childhood dream is so close.
But what even is the point anymore?
He could see it, in his mind, as if it was on a film roll. He sees himself going to UA, gaining allies and enemies alike and graduating, fighting villains, becoming the number one and beating All Might in his full power.
The fall from popularity. The consequences of his less than stellar personality and vulgar behavior. The angry shouting of the crowd, pressuring him for retirement. The inevitable victim Katsuki won't be able to save. The enraged media. Shunned by the society and spat at by the people he's protected.
Dying alone in a ditch, forgotten from minds and hearts, family long gone and Deku...
Izuku flourishing without him.
'No,' he tells himself, terrified, as he feels sweat slick up his unsteady hands. He almmost slips but quickly grabs the bar and steadies himself.
He feels sick. There is a burning heartbeat right inside his ribs, stabbing them continuously. He just had a near death experience and he feels numb, his limbs are shaking. He promptly pulls himself back to safety.
Katsuki doesn't return to the roof for a while.
It's a hopeless case. He knows this. He knows.
He knows his days are limited.
Bakugou Katsuki is writing a farewell letter.
It's not much and he feels like a newborn monkey, with the way he's shaking in his fingers. He feels pathetic, so pathetic that he can't even write with a pen, in hiragana and katakana nonetheless. He intends this to be a very simple letter with the least number of kanjis to understand it. It will be short and to the point, yet enough to convey how much he cares for the people he is leaving this for.
It's hard to decide what his last words in this world would be.
How does one go about writing a suicide letter anyway?
He decides to just let it flow, when he remembers it wouldn't matter much in the end anyway.
There would be no one in the afterlife to see it.
He decides on three words.
'I am fine.'
It doesn't feel like a lie. It feels liberating.
On the final day he lives, Bakugou Katsuki hugs his parents before leaving for school.
His mother's jaw hangs open as his arms encircle her waist, face pressing to her bosom.
And it's too much; there is her scent, that weird feeling like he is about to make a big mistake leaving these loving people but he's made his decision. And for a moment, he feels he is about to explode from the conflict inside his heart.
"Katsuki," his mother inquires, concerned.
As a parent would be, naturally.
She pats his back and rubs a little, then moving her hand to his head to ruffle it. God, would he ever feel her skin against his scalp ever again?
No.
He knows he won't.
He is off to a funeral.
At the end of school hours, Bakugou Katsuki leaves his final words to his childhood friend.
He feels the need to make a special declaration; however, he knows that would be too fucking stupid. He isn't an amateur. He's planned this. Deku would out him to the police or whatever the fuck department that dealt with suicidal people, if it meant it would save a life.
He looks over the roof's bars and for a moment, has a moment of lucidity so clear that he has to wince from the sheer roar of his senses.
He feels the soft wind running through his spiked hair -now dull and lifeless- and the serene view of the clouds passing over the bright blue sky. He feels his low, shallow breathing and the clenching of his palms. Sweat gathers.
What the fuck is he doing?
Why is he doing this?
What's the point of doing this? Something to prove..?
It wouldn't. Leaving his parents and Deku behind shouldn't be the price to pay to make a point.
But he has to now. He can't turn back from this. For some inane reason, Katsuki already feels like he has trespassed an invisible line, the day he went over the bars to pretend he was going to commit it.
It's over now.
His last ten seconds.
Katsuki's eyes go open in panic and his lungs are restrained by his chest. It's too tight, too uncomfortable, too sweaty, too much, it's too much it's too much it's too much oh God he was going to jump wasn't he..?!
Sobs tear through his constricted throat and biting his lips, he counts down from ten.
It'd be peaceful.
8.
It should be comforting, to think he won't have to bear this anymore.
5.
Why doesn't it?
2.
He tenses his muscles to prepare for his last dive.
"KACCHAN..!"
His breath is stuck in his neck, chilled.
Timid. He turns around gingerly, navigating behind the bars easily and faces him.
Deku looks flushed. Panting.
'He ran here.'
"You..!" he starts, lip wobbling. "You dare to do this when it was only recently that you confessed to me..."
It's somehow worse than Katsuki imagined being caught in the act. Deku doesn't spout about the goodness of life or mediocre consolations. He is quiet.
And that's kind of freezing cold. Katsuki can't feel the sweat now, through the empty numbness spread throughout his whole body.
"Kacchan," Deku pleads. "I've just begun to reciprocate. You can't take away my love a second time."
It doesn't make everything better, not really. But it feels like that.
Katsuki nods and gets back to safe ground.
It's not a good day, but he can at least live a bit more with Deku.
The clouds pass in the sky.
.
..
...
So this was something I wrote in boo in the morning when sleep deprived, but got a lot of likes so I decided to share it here as well.
For the record, this is a fanfiction of Rizetheotaku's "I Fuckin' Love You Deku!" AO3 story. It had a very angsty chapter and I am still a fan of it.